No one came
by jibber59
Summary: Or, how Ezra accidently discovered that he really does belong.


Chris glared at the phone as it rang. It was too close to quitting time. He didn't want any complications to interfere with his plans. And call display told him this was going to be a complication. In the past two months, he had learned that with Standish, it always was.

"You gonna answer that cowboy?" Buck asked, grinning at the response the nickname got.

"Yeah Ezra, what's up?"

"I am terribly sorry to be contacting you at such a late hour. I realize you were most probably on your way out and I genuinely have no desire to interfere with your plans." Chris wondered briefly if Ezra had some kind of psychic ability. It certainly would explain a lot about him.

"What's the problem Standish?" he asked, patience already wearing thin. A long week, and now a call when he had been so close to getting away did little for his already less than stellar mood.

"I thought I should notify you directly before you became aware of my situation through the invention of the local law enforcement officials. You do seem to prefer it when you are fully informed on our activities."

"Local law enforcement? Shit Standish, what have you gotten yourself into now?" His tone, with its unique blending of concern and anger, as much as his words brought the others into his office. Like him, they had been getting ready to head out for the night. Unlike most Friday evenings, they all had their own plans for a change. The week had been spent in close quarters on a surveillance mission, and as much as they considered themselves a team, there was such a thing as too much togetherness. Cramped vans and cheap motel rooms had kept them virtually on top of each other for 9 days as they monitored the comings and goings at a bar where Ezra had been hustling pool and raking in pot after pot in poker winnings. All while finding out as much information as he could on the activities of a small band of survivalists who had accumulated an impressive, and illegal, stash of weapons. Today's bust had gone smoothly, or at least without an excessive amount of gunfire, and for a change, all seven men had walked away uninjured. Six returned to the office to write up reports, while Ezra went downtown to the DA's office to be debriefed there. Now they were all more than anxious to have an evening without the company of the others.

"I have not gotten myself into anything Mr. Larabee. My vehicle, however, has had an unfortunate encounter with several stationary objects, including a telephone pole and several rocks. I can assure you the outcome was not favorable for the paint job. Or the fenders. Or really any other part of automobile." Ezra realized he was rambling slightly, and forced himself to stop talking.

"Forget the car. Were you hurt?" He now had everyone's undivided attention.

"My pride has suffered a critical blow, but I expect it will eventually make a full recovery. It always does. Other than that, there seems to be minimal damage to my person."

Chris let out a sigh, which in turn allowed the others to breathe a bit easier as well. Standish had only been on the team for a couple of months, and while not fully embraced into the fold, none of them wished any harm on him. "OK. Good. They taking you to the hospital?"

"No, I signed the appropriated bureaucratic paperwork to avoid that unpleasantness. I merely wanted to ensure that you were not caught unaware when and if you were contacted on this matter." Chris could hear a bit of hesitation in his voice. Something wasn't being said here.

"Is there something else Standish?"

"The paramedics did advise I should not try to drive myself home. Not that such a feat would be possible, given the fact that my only means of transportation is presently upside down in ditch off Donaldson Drive. I was going to contact a rental agency, but in light of their advice…"

"You need a ride?" Chris sighed again. It occurred to him he was doing that a lot more in the last couple of months. "Ezra, I can't come get you. I'm supposed to be meeting someone out at the ranch." Granted, it was only a local farmer delivering feed for the horses, but he was looking forward to getting the hell out of the city. "Hang on. Let me get one of the guys to come by." He reached over, hitting the red button as he set the receiver on the desk.

"OK, who can go get Standish and take him home?"

"He hurt?" Nathan asked.

"Doesn't seem to be, although he sounds a bit shaken up."

"Let him take a cab then. He can afford it. Well he can. Besides, I've got a date with Raine tonight. Haven't seen her in almost 2 weeks."

"I've got plans with a lady as well Chris. Just haven't decide which one yet." Buck grinned and winked. "He's a big boy. I'm sure he can find his way home."

"Where'd it happen?"

"Donaldson. Why?"

"Figures. All those curves and hills. Ten to one he was flooring that sports monster of his and spun out." Vin sounded less than impressed. "His type loves to push those cars for all they're worth."

JD nodded. "He does like to show off in the thing."

Chris looked to the remaining man on the team. "You feel the same way about it Josiah?"

"Well, it might be a good lesson to him to be inconvenienced a little when he's been reckless. Remind him he can't charm, sweet talk or con his way out of every situation he finds himself in."

"Great. I don't suppose any of you want to pick up the phone and let him know he's on his own? Didn't think so."

JD was looking at the phone. "Nobody's gonna have to tell him anything Chris. You didn't put him on hold, you put him on the speaker phone."

"Shit." Chris grabbed for the receiver by reflex. "Ezra, you there? Ezra?" A moment later dial tone came across the speaker, showing the connection had been ended. The effort to call back went directly to voice mail. "Ezra damn it. Call me back when you get this."

The six men looked at each other. "Well, that didn't go well." Buck spoke first.

"You really think he heard anything he hasn't heard before?" Nathan asked. "It's not like we're his family or anything."

"Doesn't matter that he's heard it before. He shouldn't have heard it from us. No, we're not his family. But we are supposed to be his team, and that should mean something." Vin replied, feeling less than pleased with himself at this moment.

"Does he have family around here he could be calling?" JD wondered. "He hasn't mentioned any."

"I don't think he knows anyone in town other than us. Only been here a couple of months, and we've been pretty busy, so I doubt he's made a lot of new friends." Chris answered.

"Doesn't strike me as a man who generally does." They looked to Josiah. "Make friends I mean. Our newest member is a rather secretive fellow. Doesn't seem inclined to reach out to people easily."

"Given the treatment he got at his last job, that's understandable."

"You ever gonna fill us in on those details cowboy." Chris favoured Buck with another glare, which was ignored. They'd been friends for far too long for it to have any impact. "You brought a man with what is at best a questionable history onto the team, told us nothing about why he left the FBI and expect us to welcome him with open arms. You really surprised none of us have exactly warmed up to him? Hell, you aren't exactly his number one fan either."

"I really don't think this is the time for this discussion. We need to find out what happened and where he is."

"Donaldson and 3rd." JD spoke. They looked at him with some confusion. "Well while you were talking about the merits of having Ezra around, I logged into the police site and found the accident location. And, for what it's worth, I like having Ezra on the team. I think once he learns to trust us, he's going to be a good fit with our brand of crazy."

"Once he learns to trust us? Don't you have that backwards son?" Josiah asked.

"Nah. We aren't going to find out much from him until he knows we won't hold it against him. So, like I said, he's gonna have to trust us."

Chris growled, realizing JD was probably right. He had seen Ezra's file, and knew there was a lot more to this man than he had shared, or likely would share with the team. The last few minutes had likely destroyed any trust that had been built. "Well this should go a long way in helping that."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Twenty-five minutes later Chris was showing his ID to the uniformed officer directing traffic away from the accident. The young man pointed out the chief investigator at the scene.

"Your agent left about 15 minutes ago. We called a cab for him when he told us you were on a case and couldn't get away. Guess he misunderstood. He did seem a bit shaken up." Chris refrained from correcting the man. He was looking at the car, and realizing just how much Ezra had underplayed the accident.

"He walked away from that?"

"Airbags are a wonderful thing."

The sports car was, as described, upside down in a ditch, and there had been a pole and rocks involved. From the skid marks and the tape the accident investigators had laid out, it looked like the car slid toward the telephone pole and ricocheted out of control. The ditch it ended up in was at the bottom of a what looked to be an at least 60-foot steep ravine. It must have rolled several times, coming to rest in a cluster of boulders at the base.

Buck walked to the edge, shaking his head as he looked down. Survival had been some kind of fluke as far as he could see. Vin had made his way to the pole, looking at the skid marks.

"He doesn't seem to have been going all that fast," he observed. "Any idea why he lost control?"

"According to the witnesses he was well within the speed limit. And the young man sitting in the backseat of the patrol car is your reason why. He was on a skateboard. Came off the sidewalk blocked by a parked car. Doing some kind of stunt. Witnesses say the fact your man didn't hit him was nothing short of a miracle. Or the best driving any of them have seen outside of a grand prix race. He had a choice of hitting the kid, hitting some folks waiting for a bus, or going over the edge. He took option three."

The team was silent, looking down at the damaged car. And wondering how much more damage they'd inflicted on the driver.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

There was no need to hide the groans as he stretched his already aching muscles. He settled one of the ice bags onto his right ankle, which had ended up trapped between the gas and brake pedals as his car had tumbled down the hill. The other went on the right wrist, which had been jammed as he shifted gears in a frantic, futile effort to control his spin out.

He closed his eyes and immediately saw the face of the terrified teen who had skateboarded out into the street. Ezra was fairly certain his own face had a similar look at that instant. He knew he had cringed at the thought of what was going to happen to his paint job, and laughed when he realized the paint was about to be the least of his concerns. Or more accurately, the last.

He had sat in stunned disbelief, hanging suspended by the seatbelt when the car came to its final rest, after the interminable decent. He was alive. What an unexpected turn of events. It was only a moment before the shocked witnesses began scampering down the hill and to determine if he had, in fact, survived.

There was simply no graceful way to exit the vehicle when you were in such an awkward position, so he accepted that fact and allowed the assorted good Samaritans to extricate him, ensuring he was clear of any possible fire or explosion, neither of which he actually expected to see. Crashes generally only looked like that in the movies.

It wasn't long until sirens were heard and the swarm of medics, firefighters, and police descended on him. Once they had been convinced he was not at death's door, and were also convinced he held no culpability in any of this, they returned his cell phone and allowed him to make his call.

He'd hated to do that. It was not in his nature to turn to others for help. Experience had shown one him it was rarely a successful route. Still, he'd been beginning to get the impression that things might be different now. After all, these men had looked past his final debacle with the FBI and accepted him as part of the team. He had a long way to go before he was really one of them, likely too long. Still, at least there was more a sense of togetherness here than he could remember feeling in- well, ever.

Chris's tone had been less than warm and fuzzy, but it was quitting time after all. His heart sank a little when Chris dismissed his request, but rebounded when he heard him ask the others. Obviously, Chris had messed up with the phone system again. The man was not designed for technology. He would have been better suited for the era of the telegraph or even the pony express.

They couldn't have known they were on speaker. None of them were so callous as to deliberately treat him that way. Still, it didn't make it any less painful to hear.

"You'd assume you have gotten used to it by now you fool." His voice broke through the silence in the room. He tossed back the double barely tasting it. "Lousy way to treat good scotch," he said pouring another full glass.

He couldn't get the conversation out of his head. Not just what was said, but the tone. The message between the lines. He'd been kidding himself. He wasn't even close to being one of them. Clearly, they just barely tolerated his existence.

"He can afford it." So, they bought into the belief that he had money, and the tone reflected where they thought the money had come from.

"Show off." "Reckless." "His type." Not exactly terms of endearment.

Ezra got up stiffly, moved over to his laptop on the counter and began typing.

 _Effective immediately I have resigned from my position in the ATF. Please courier any required paperwork to my attention within one week of this date. After that time, I will no longer be at this location._ The email message was addressed to Judge Travis and copied to Chris Larabee. Ezra hit send.

"Packing up and running again. Good thing you travel light Standish." He turned away, with the intention of starting to pack, but quickly discovered between the alcohol and the pain, movement was not his best plan. He lurched towards the chair and the ice packs he had left behind, but the cramping muscles had no intention of cooperating. Off-balance, he put too much weight on his right foot and felt the pain fighting its way upstream against the booze. He fell forward, hitting his head on the padded arm of the chair as he toppled.

Winded and more than a little disoriented he rolled onto his side, reaching out to rescue the scotch bottle that had fallen along with him. Only a bit had spilled. "Thank goodness I had imbibed sufficient to spare significant loss." Pulling the bottle closer, he reached out again, this time retrieving a blanket from the back of the chair, and bunched it into a pillow. Settling where he fell, he decided nothing was so urgent it could not keep until after a short nap.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The office was quiet when the team regrouped there. Chris had vetoed the plan to head straight to Ezra's place for a couple of reasons. The official excuse was that the man was probably resting from the ordeal, and did not need a stampede of repentant agents invading that rest. The other reason, which he was too ashamed to admit to them, was that he had no idea where Ezra lived. Granted they'd only been together for a short time, but he realized he should've had some clue by this point. He didn't even know if it was a house or apartment.

He stormed into the office slamming doors, kicking chairs, and generally being mad at the world. While waiting for the computer to warm up he opened the safe where he kept the spare keys for everyone's home. Past experience had taught him to be prepared for emergencies. He sorted through them three times before cursing loudly, which brought the others rushing in.

"What's wrong?" "Did you hear from him?" Buck and JD spoke simultaneously.

"Don't have his key. I know I asked him for one, and he kept stalling. Guess I just forgot about it."

"Really? Because you harassed me about it on an almost daily basis until you got one." Nathan spoke without realizing how accusatory it sounded until he got to the end. "Of course, Ezra can be quite distracting when he wants to be," he added, trying to salvage the comment.

"Relax Nathan. You're right. I didn't push him the way I should have. He's just so damn…" He couldn't come up with the in the word he wanted to, so the others began filling the void.

"Sly." Buck began

"Calculating" Josiah offered.

Manipulative." Nathan added

"Private," Vin said quietly. "He's hiding himself from us. He's done that from day one."

"What is it you suppose he doesn't want us to find out?" Nathan asked, suspicion and doubt creeping back into his tone.

Chris thought about what he'd read of Ezra's background. All the innuendo, groundless rumours and unsubstantiated charges.

"Everything," he said sadly. "He figures we're going to judge him on talk, not actions. I'm thinking that's what happened to him most of his life."

"So why doesn't he stand up to people about it? Anybody trashed me with no proof, I'd let him have it with both barrels." Buck countered.

Josiah leaned back, catching onto Chris's line of thought. "I would guess our newest addition is out of ammunition Buck. If Chris is right, if these are issues that have haunted him for some time, it's entirely possible he simply has no energy left to fight with. Likely sees no point to it."

Vin nodded. "He figures he's been judged and damned before he walks into the room. And we pretty much proved that to him. So how do we fix this Chris? Chris? You listening?"

"That stupid, short-sighted, son of a bitch."

"Problem boss? JD smiled.

"He quit."

"What?" "You're kidding?" "Dammit!" "Tell him he can't." The last was a plaintive plea from JD.

"I'd love to kid, but he only copied it to me. Sent it straight to the judge."

"Well he won't see it till Monday. Can't you hack in there and delete it or something?" Buck looked at JD

"Seriously?" Chris glared. "You're asking him to illegally hack into our boss's computer. Our boss, who happens to be a retired court officer and the regional director for a federal agency. You expect him to hack in?"

JD was already sitting at his computer, looking puzzled. "Well it's not like I haven't done it before Chris."

"I did not hear that. None of us heard you admit to a federal crime that could land you in Guantánamo!" Chris took a deep, calming breath, which was a wasted effort. "Why don't we just go to Ezra and talk him out of this. He can call it back."

"Recall it." JD corrected automatically.

"Whatever. Or at least send a follow-up blaming it all on the concussion."

"Medic said he didn't get a concussion in the accident." Nathan reminded him.

"I know. I'm gonna give him one now. Knock some sense into him."

The next few minutes were spent in a brief debate over how they would handle getting into Ezra's place if he didn't want them they are. The idea they wouldn't wasn't part of the discussion. Nathan suggested they simply contact the business manager, once they had determined he was in a condo, but that idea was vetoed. Identifying themselves as federal agents would either raise suspicions about Ezra, or risk exposing him. Given the nature of his undercover status, low profile was always the preferred option. Vin was reasonably sure he could pick the lock, or locks, if need be. Still, if that failed, or if he had electronic locks, they'd be stuck.

"Check his desk," Chris finally directed. "Maybe he keeps a spare set of keys."

"You do recall what I said about private?" Vince asked.

"Well, I'm calling it an emergency. We can put it back if we don't need it, and he'll never know."

"Somehow, I doubt that." Josiah commented, as he reluctantly sat at the desk. Aside from two pens, neatly placed side by side, and a desk calendar, the surface was bare. The top drawer had two files and several empty folders. A tray held other basic supplies. There wasn't a stray paper clip or a rubber band out of place.

"Gotta tell you boys. As a profiler, this desk scares the hell out of me."

Vin nodded. "Not a damn thing to mark it as his own. Nothing says 'this is where I belong'."

Buck thumbed through the desk calendar. "Not a date marked anywhere. No plans at all." He flipped to the back. "Not much under addresses either. Doctor, dentist, lawyer and a couple of business listings. All from Atlanta. Doesn't look like he's got any friends listed, and no other Standish listings either."

"Probably has all those other numbers memorized?" JD tried to sound positive, but it was more a question than a statement, and he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Buck tossed it on the desk open to the F page. Several listings under FBI contacts. Each had a heavy straight line drawn through it. "Looks like nobody they are expressed an interest in staying in touch."

Josiah pulled out two keys on an unmarked ring. "Guess these will let us in."

Chris shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure anything will get us into where we need to be, but I think it sure as hell time to start trying."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra was fairly certain the buzzing was not just his head, but was in fact the intercom. It occurred to him, as he fought his way back to a wakeful state, that he not heard it before. "An absence of visitors would account for that," he admonished himself.

He had no idea how long someone had been trying to get a response, but was exceedingly pleased when the irritating sound stopped. He was still debating the merits of continuing his nap on the floor versus crawling to his room and trying to lift himself onto the bed when he heard the voices outside, followed by a short, assertive knock. He lay perfectly still, in the vain hope he'd be left to his solitude. The sound of a key in the lock shattered that hope.

"Damn, Ezra? You okay? Chris call 911."

"You will do no such thing. I do not require and will not accept any such assistance. This is my home, and if I elect to sleep on the floor or any other venue I elect to sleep in - or on - is no concern to anyone else. You gentlemen were not invited and I must insist you depart at once."

Nathan was kneeling beside Ezra as he watched him struggle to sit up. He couldn't help but grin just a little at the man's vocabulary and determination, given the circumstances. He tried to retrieve the scotch bottle only to have Ezra's snuggle it close to his semi-prone body. "He's got good reflexes for someone who smells like a distillery."

"What about 911?" Chris asked, his hand on the phone.

"Must I repeat –"

"Wasn't asking you Ezra. Want the opinion of someone thinking straight." Ezra huffed his displeasure at the insult.

"Think he's okay. Ezra, how would you feel about sitting in the chair for a bit?"

"There's no need for you to address me as you would a child, Mr. Jackson. I am perfectly capable of comprehending your questions and your intentions. I reiterate that your presence and that of the other gentlemen who have intruded upon my privacy and violated the sanctity of my home is not required."

"He drinks over half a bottle of scotch and still sounds like a damn dictionary," Buck marvelled.

"I will have you know sir, that this was not a full decanter when I enjoyed my first libation of the day. Additionally, a small amount of the liquid ambrosia did sadly end up on the carpeting when the bottle inadvertently plummeted to the floor."

"My apologies, Ezra."

"Further, as your keen noted, there remains **less** than half the original contents of this fine aged double malt. I regret that indicates that there is insufficient for me to offer you each a libation."

"That's okay Ezra. We didn't come here for a drink."

"No, I would expect that was not your motivation." Ezra tried to stand, but found it to be far more of a challenge than he had anticipated. It was only the timely intervention of Buck and Nathan that kept him from falling on his face. They sat him on the chair, where he perched precariously close to the edge.

"Steady there Ezra. You've got enough strains, sprains and bruises from today without adding to the list." Buck cautioned.

"Precisely how would you be aware of the injuries I have sustained today?"

Buck hesitated, turning to Chris to take over the discussion.

"Because we went out there Ezra. Went to check on you. The cop in charge told us what happened."

Ezra stared at him briefly, wishing he would come into clearer focus. One Chris Larabee was difficult enough to deal with. The three that stood before him now was two more than he was ready to handle. Actually, three more. Still, since the man was no longer his boss, he really had nothing to lose.

"That seems unlikely Mr. Larabee, and quite contrary to the evidence at hand. It was made abundantly clear that none of you had either the time nor the inclination to permit such an excursion. Or did I perhaps hallucinate the discussion you had?"

"Wish I could say you had Ezra."

"I see. So, this is nothing more than an exercise in soothing your consciences? Or perhaps you came to ascertain if I was genuine in my notification to Judge Travis? If that is your concern, rest assured you may proceed with your celebrations. You will no longer have to contend with the stigma and shame of being associated with Ezra Standish."

"That's not why we're here Ezra. Well it is but, but not the way you're saying it. Do you really want to leave us Ezra?"

He was surprised by the genuinely plaintiff and curious tone in JD's request. He would not have expected the young agent to be such a consummate actor.

"Excellent presentation Mr. Dunn. If you are capable of such a performance while working undercover you will become an invaluable operative."

"He ain't acting Standish." Buck growled protectively. "He actually cares about the answer."

"While you, evidently, do not."

"You sure as hell make it hard to, but yeah. I care. Kinda like you to stick around."

"You would? Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Ezra shook his head. "You all repeatedly complain and criticize when I take advantage of the full extent of my vocabulary, yet when I elect to utilize a simple three letter word, it has you stymied. Why? For what reason? To what purpose? What motivations propel this discussion?"

When no one answered immediately, Ezra leaned back into the seat, a disconcerting Cheshire cat smile coming to his face.

"Ah, because it is the right and moral thing to do. And if there is one statement that can be made without fear of rebuttal it is that you six men are all right and moral men"

"You're right Ezra. We screwed up. Can't blame you in the least from being pissed off at us. We'd like a chance to explain – to talk about it."

"By all means Mr. Tanner. I would enjoy hearing your interpretation of why you acted the way you did. It will be interesting to see how well it aligns with my interpretation of the facts."

Chris rested a hand on Vin's arm and signalled him quietly to hold off for a moment.

"Ezra, you're gonna have a mighty sore neck if you keep looking up at all of us. Think this might be more comfortable if we were more at eye level. Got any more chairs?"

"Alas Mr. Larabee, I do not. As I have no friends, I have no reason to own more than this one place to sit. It does make life easier when it comes to moving however. Please, feel free to settle yourself on the floor. I found it to be more than comfortable, on several occasions."

As they settled Chris continued. "Tell me Ezra, why do you think we said the things we did?" He had decided Ezra earned the right to chew them all out, and gave him the opening he needed to do so.

"Because you are righteous and moral men, as I said. I was not being facetious or sarcastic in my comment. Men with characters and reputations such as you have would have no reason or desire to spend time in the company of someone who would so easily taint those reputations. I have seen all my life, and learned to expect nothing less." The fire had gone out his voice, and an overwhelming fatigue was replacing it. "I had hoped this time things might work out for a bit longer. That this time, I make genuinely be given the opportunity to prove to everyone – to myself – that acceptance was possible. One would have thought I'd have learned." He could feel himself nodding off. The effects of the past week, the past few hours, and a half bottle of scotch had completed their conspiracy against him. The final words of his sentence were slurred together, and almost too soft to be heard. Almost but not quite, as the six men stared at the now sleeping seventh.

"Well shit." Buck summed it up for all of them.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The only thing Ezra knew for certain from the instant he woke up was that there was entirely too much light in the room. All streaming in on his face. After a few seconds lying still, he realized just how wrong that was. He had taken his unit specifically because the morning sun came nowhere near it. So, where the hell was he? He started to sit up to figure that out, and was stopped by 100 stabs of pain running through him.

"Don't think you want to be moving around too much son," Josiah's booming voice startled him into another unwise movement. It also echoed in his head like a shout into the Grand Canyon.

"I am wondering if it would be at all possible for you to cease using a megaphone when you speak Mr. Sanchez?"

"I'm already down to a whisper Ezra. Think you might be a little sensitive to noise this morning. I'll warn the others. And to answer the question you haven't asked, you're at Chris's place. Guest room. East facing windows. Sorry about that." He smiled slightly as Ezra tried to pull the blanket over his face. "Nathan said you'd be pretty sore, so move slow. Your right wrist and ankle are both swollen some, and I'm betting you don't have a muscle not fighting with you right now. I'll let everyone know you're awake."

"Everyone? The team is here?"

"Of course."

"Why?"

"To talk some sense into you. Why else?" He left a perplexed Ezra staring after him through half opened eyes.

About 15 minutes later Ezra cautiously lowered the blanket far enough to see who had entered the room. Nathan was putting a tall glass of water and – wondrous miracle – a bottle of aspirin on the night table.

"No more than three," he cautioned, "no matter how tempting the bottle is. Last thing you need now is an abundance of blood thinner." He turned and pulled the shade down on the window, shielding Ezra from the direct sun. "Breakfast is ready in ten minutes. Not a good idea to keep these guys waiting too long for food. Fresh clothes for you on the chair. Put a few of your things in a bag for you last night. Your toothbrush, which I am pretty sure you want to use right about now, is in the bathroom." He pointed towards a far door, then back to the nightstand. "Doubt you could handle crutches with a sore wrist, but there's a cane leaning there that might make things a bit easier until the swelling goes down in your ankle. 10 minutes." He left before Ezra could formulate an answer to any of it.

Reluctantly, he rose and hobbled to the bathroom to take care of his morning routine. 10 minutes be damned, he wasn't going anywhere without a shower. The hot water felt wonderful on the assorted aches and strains, and slowly washed away some of the fog as well. He still had little recollection of what he had said, and none concerning how he had ended up here, but he did have an overwhelming desire to disappear down the drain himself. Given that staying in the shower all day was, at best, unfeasible, he exited, toweled off and manoeuvred himself into the clothing they had packed up for him. Casual enough to be comfortable, under the circumstances. Not normally something he would wear in public, but nothing about this experience came anywhere close to normal.

It was closer to 25 minutes when Ezra showed up to the table. It was a good thing he had no appetite because Nathan had been right – these guys didn't wait. Crumbs of scrambled egg and bits of bacon was all the evidence that remained. Ezra settled himself into the empty seat at the end of the table facing Chris. He glanced with regret at the empty mug, realizing he should have poured some coffee before collapsing into the seat. Getting up now would be far too awkward for his joints to allow.

JD, seated to his left, sized up the situation instantly and passed over a thermos that Ezra hadn't noticed.

"Don't worry Ez, Vin didn't make it. Want me to pour it for you?"

"That would be appreciated." He sipped at the nectar, allowing it to soothe his tired throat and calm him.

"There's eggs and bacon kept warm in the oven for you Ezra.," JD continued. "Best get it fast before Buck lays claim."

"Thank you, but I don't think that would be an advisable action on my part."

"Bit hung over there Ezra?" Buck boomed. Ezra fought the impulse to wince.

"Not at all. I simply have no desire to share a meal with people who would rather not be in my presence." He snapped back. Damn, this was not going to go well. And it was going to be a long walk back to town.

"If we didn't want you around, we would've left that damn email where it was. And we would've left you at home." Nathan growled at him

"And, if I ever see another drunken email from you, we won't be so forgiving." Chris's tone left no doubt as to his sincerity

"That, Mr. Larrabee, no longer an issue since I am no longer in the employee of the ATF."

"Yeah it is an issue, since your resignation has been removed from the judge's inbox."

"You had no right to take such actions." Ezra tried to rise to take a stand but his body was not cooperating. Pain shot up his leg when he put too much pressure on it too quickly. He tried to hide his reaction and clearly failed.

"Damn, Ezra sit still. JD, get me an ice pack for him. Buck pull a chair over, this should be elevated." All the anger Nathan had just a moment earlier was gone.

"Think he'll need another ice pack Nathan. He's holding his wrist funny." Vin observed. "His focus looks a bit off too. Think he has a concussion?"

"Medical report didn't indicate one. Airbag spared him that problem."

"Should we get him on the couch? Probably more comfortable there." JD asked as he handed over the ice.

Josiah moved behind the chair. "Buck and I could easily lift him over to avoid any more walking –"

"ENOUGH!" Ezra yelled. They all froze. Ezra had yelled! Ezra never yelled. JD yelled. Buck hollered. Vin barked, Josiah bellowed, Chris roared. Even Nathan shouted from time to time, but Ezra had never yelled at them before.

"I am sitting right here. I will not be talked about as if I didn't exist, or was incapable of forming an opinion or answering a question. And I most certainly will not be carried like a child."

Josiah and Buck exchanged glances, nodding slightly. They each then reached down and scooped Ezra up in a human sling and moved the stunned man to the couch in the next room. He was too flabbergasted to react.

JD quietly placed the coffee cup next to him. Within a few minutes the rest of the team had settled into the other spots in the room, and Ezra had calmed enough to speak again. The problem was, he had nothing more he wanted to say.

Chris's voice was considerably quieter than it had been a few minutes earlier "I know you're tired Ezra. And not feeling at your best. But we need to talk. And you need to listen. Can you do that?"

"I am not tired Mr. Larrabee. And, contrary to your opinions, I am not hung over. It requires a significantly greater investment in alcohol to in create that condition for me. Far too much experience has habituated me."

"It's not just the drinking Ezra. You were in an accident yesterday. A bad one. And it could've been a lot worse."

"Not really," Ezra mumbled.

"You could have been killed Ezra," JD challenged

"I think the kind of 'worse' he's talking about wasn't the kind that they would've been able to fix at the hospital JD. Right son?"

"I believe I've asked you before to refrain from using that term when addressing me, Mr. Sanchez." Ezra avoided answering the question.

"Yes, you have, and I do apologize. Damned presumptuous of me. Guess something in my subconscious keeps thinking you need some kind of father figure."

"Oh, I have had more than my share of father figures over the years, each one more patronizing than the last. Not an ounce of sincerity in the lot. Finally came to the realization they called me son because it was a hell of a lot easier than bothering to learn my name."

Josiah was taken aback by the sentiment and the venom in his voice. "I promise you Ezra, I never intended for the term to be condescending or dismissive."

Ezra was silent for a moment. In a much softer tone, he spoke again. "I know. That may be what worries me so much."

Vin smiled sadly. "Not used to the idea someone might be sincere when they ask how you are or offer you some friendship?" Ezra averted his stare, not answering the question.

"So, you weren't all that surprised when we were stupid enough to prove you right?" Chris surmised. "You figured all along it was just a matter of time until we showed you our true colours.?"

"It always has been in the past."

"See the problem with that, is we had been showing you the real deal. Yesterday was the exception to the rule."

"Yesterday was the norm."

"No, it wasn't Ezra. It was a combination of too much fatigue and not enough thought. It was stupid and selfish and I hope to God it wasn't who we really are."

"You misunderstand me Mr. Larrabee. It was my norm."

"And we should have been working harder at trying to change that for you. Make you see things could be different."

"You gotta remember," Buck added, "we're not used to having to prove ourselves. The six of us just kind of naturally fit together."

"And I am the proverbial square peg in this scenario."

"Only because you won't let go of those hard edges." Vin observed. You do make it kinda difficult for a fellow to get to know you."

"Another lesson learned by experience."

"Maybe you want to unlearn a few of those." Nathan suggested, smiling.

"It's not that easy Mr. Jackson."

"May not be as hard as you think."

"You are dealing with years of conditioning Mr. Larrabee. No, a lifetime of conditioning."

"I'm sorry Ezra."

"Why? You have no culpability on that score."

"I mean I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Again, why?"

The question startled Chris. "Well, because it's not right. Not the way to treat an adult, and certainly no way to treat a kid. And from what you've said, that's been going on your whole life."

"I cannot accurately state that it has been for my whole life. I don't recall most of my experiences prior to the age for three, so would therefore be forced to caveat those years." There was no laughter as his transparent effort to diffuse the discussion. He decided to try to steer away from any further personal disclosures. "So, your objection to my comments is on a matter of principle?"

"No Ezra. I – make that we – tend to get a little out of sorts when people we know, people we care about, are mistreated and disrespected. Why do you think we're all so pissed off at our ourselves right now?"

Ezra remained quiet, trying to formulate a safe answer.

"Stop trying to figure out what you should say, and just say what you think son – sorry – Ezra."

He leaned back slowly in his seat, trying to hide the stiffness and aches. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was another outpouring of fussing and pampering.

But, Lord, there were so many aches. He found it hard to accept just how battered he felt. Still, when he thought about it, it really shouldn't have been all that surprising. The way he had hit the brakes, the force with which he pulled at the steering wheel – initially to avoid the young man, and then to dodge all the secondary targets. He could still feel the jarring sensation of his car leaping the curb, brushing against the pole he was almost able to swerve around and finally ricocheting over the edge of the ravine. No wonder his shoulder hurt so, stressed as it had been against the seatbelt as the car tumbled. He remembered the sensation of slamming back into the headrest just an instant before the airbag deployed, buffeting him squarely in the face.

He felt the tightness in his chest as the seatbelt contained him throughout the tumbling, leaving him dangling when the car finally came to rest. A sense of dread filled him as he realized that wasn't a memory. The tightness, the trouble breathing. That was all happening right now!

Chris had closed his eyes in an effort to rein in his frustration when Ezra leaned back. The man was going to deflect the conversation again. There had to be a way to break through that fortress he'd built around himself, but Chris was damned if he could figure what it was. The only thing he was sure of was that it was going to be worth the effort.

"Ezra?" Chris' eyes snapped open at JD's tone. The young agent had been the only one watching Ezra as he mulled his next gambit. The concern in JD's voice went far deeper than someone anxious for an answer. "Ezra, you OK? Nathan, something's wrong with him." The healer had already taken the few short steps to be by their side.

"Ezra. Look at me Ezra. Open your eyes. Ezra, you're fine. You're safe. Open your eyes Ezra."

"Damn it Standish – do what he says." Buck was close to shouting, his volume tempered only by the fact he was starting to have a bit of trouble catching his own breath right now.

Vin reached out and grabbed Ezra's hand, stunned by how cold and clammy it felt, and how much trembling he could feel. It occurred to him some of that might be his own. The contact seemed to do the trick. Ezra's eyes opened wide, and he gasped several quick, desperate breaths.

"That's it Ezra," Vin spoke softly. "Slow and easy. Just settle back." Ezra pulled his hand free. The look of terror in his eyes had little to do with the flashback, and reflected more the abject mortification he felt over the public display of weakness.

Buck grinned, nodding slightly. "Those flashbacks can be a real bitch. I had them for the longest time after my first shoot out. Remember Chris?"

"Sure do. Remember the ones Vin had after that sniper business, too. Not to mention my own."

Josiah chuckled softly. "I must have replayed a couple of hostage negotiations 100 times over in my head. Still hear the voices."

Ezra looked at them in disbelief. Did they really expect him to fall for such an absurd and transparent fabrication? He was ready to call them on it when he realized he wasn't seeing a single 'tell' in the group. If there was one thing he had no doubt about, it was his ability to read people and recognize a lie when he saw it. Not one of these men was lying. Not one.

"You – you have all had a moment similar to this one?" he asked tentatively.

"A moment? Try dozens. At least." Chris replied. "And your situation is fresh in your head. Hell, the pain alone must be triggering memories. We shouldn't have been pushing you so much right now."

"Then why did you? Why would you choose now to try to convince –" Ezra cut himself off as the answer dawned on him. "Oh dear Lord. You mean it."

They looked stunned. "Well of course we mean it." Buck replied indignantly. "Why else would we say it?" He wasn't entirely sure just what 'it' was, but this seemed like a safe answer.

"Forgive me, but as I have indicated, I have spent the better part of my life dealing with people who rarely, if ever, say what they mean without hidden agenda or ulterior motive."

"Well that doesn't sound like the better part of any life." Chris retorted. "And you're gonna have to get past that with us. We tend to say exactly what we mean, and to mean what we say."

"Except," JD added quickly, "when we're tired and cranky, and maybe feeling a bit selfish."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "Except then."

Ezra was still more than a little confused. Perhaps he did have a head injury after all. None of this discussion was making much sense to him.

"Would it be possible for you to, as Mr. Wilmington is so fond of saying, cut to the chase?"

"What we are saying Ezra, it that we want you to stick around." Vin smiled, hoping the sincerity of the statement rang true.

Ezra fought to keep the skepticism from his voice. "Really? Is that a unanimous request?" He avoided looking at Nathan or Buck as he spoke.

"I speak for the team Ezra." Chris replied.

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't address the question. Please understand, I am not asking for vanity or gratification. Nor am I trying to assign any blame or guilt to those who might feel differently. Each of you is fully entitled to your own opinions."

"No matter how misguided or ill informed we might be?" Buck interrupted.

"If I am not truly and completely accepted or wanted here, my presence would be a detriment to the functioning of the team. Given that we work in life or death situations, any such negative influence could be, at the very least, dangerous to all parties."

Making sure Ezra took note of the roll call Chris made eye contact with each member of the team, getting a nod each time. Nathan was the last to respond, and he spoke as he nodded his agreement.

"Well Ezra, speaking for myself, but no doubt with the agreement of the others, I would say having you around is definitely going to keep life interesting. And there isn't a man here who would want things any other way."

Ezra did his best to keep his face and voice neutral, and was not convinced he succeed. "I would have to say, if anyone was to ask my opinion at this point, that you men have something seriously wrong with your judgement. However, as I have long been encouraged to take full advantage of any situation which would be of benefit to me, I will accept the opportunity to continue to associate with you. I still believe you will come rue this day, but until that happens, I would propose we all try to get as much entertainment out of this experience as is humanly possible."

Chris shook his head. "Tell me Ezra, have you ever answered any question with just one word?"

"On occasion," he replied, grinning for the first time. He leaned forward to stand, but the soft groan and almost hidden wince had Nathan back into full protective mode.

"No way. You need to sit back for a while. I'll get you some more ice. We can wait a bit on the anti-inflammatories. Chris, you got some juice? He needs to stay well hydrated."

"Really gentlemen, I should be returning to my home. I can recover without causing any further inconvenience or disruptions."

"Screw that." Chris' growl lost its impact when the smile was added. "You stay right here where we can keep an eye on you until Nathan says otherwise."

"That sir, is kidnapping." Ezra was just tired enough to be unable to completely hide his own smile.

"Nah," Vin answered. "That's family."

The end!

 _(Shhhh. Don't anyone tell my physiotherapist I've been at the keyboard. Somehow, as story about an accident just came into my mind!)_


End file.
